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Morgoth has been defeated and the War of Wrath is over. Eärendil has to return to his task of sailing the Void beyond the world, but first he wants to see his sons again. Hugs and talking happen
They needed to move on, to settle - to weather this tentative peace. Looking upon this valley, he thought that perhaps it could be done.
This is one of my art entries for the TRSB24 event. It focuses on the Dwarves living in the East, specifically Dwarf-women.
Character portrait of Celegorm Feanorian
Art for TRSB 2024! Featuring Psamathos' cove from Roverandom, and Psamathos himself if you know where to look.
AllyThistle wrote a delightful fic, Once Upon A Time On Psamathos' Cove, to accompany it. <333
Idril disagrees with the king’s decision to execute Eol. Written for the SWG challenge Kings & Queens.
At the gates of Edoras, Aragorn tells the guard that Narsil was forged by Telchar, the great dwarven smith of the First Age. How did this ancient heirloom come into the hands of Elendil, king of the Realms in Exile?
Written for the SWG challenge Kings & Queens (as well as Akallabeth in August), and part of my Weapons series, the rest of which is on AO3.
Caranthir is nervous about meeting Haleth’s father and brother for the first time. Haleth is sure everything will go well.
A minor incident during the Fall of Eregion: no, this is not about the Gwaith-i-Mirdain or Celebrimbor, it is about the Dyers' Guild. Not one for the history books, but the Eldar remember...
Elrond sets out to go find Maglor, having a good feeling about it for once.
He finds Maglor... more changed than he thought he'd be...
A crablor story inspired by a fantastic art from Sortumavaara
Thank you for sharing your art.
"[Yavanna] is the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind..." - The Valaquenta
The news of the Second Kinslaying arrives on Balar among the Falathrim. They are all shocked and horrified, but for one of them, it poses a specific problem.
Maglor assists Maedhros with pain therapy, but his bedside manner is lacking.
"They are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West, my kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. They must have come from a dragon's hoard or goblin plunder, for dragons and goblins destroyed that city many ages ago. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a famous blade. This, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the king of Gondolin once wore. Keep them well!"
"Whence did the trolls get them, I wonder?" said Thorin looking at his sword with new interest.
"I could not say," said Elrond, "but one may guess that your trolls had plundered other plunderers, or come on the remnants of old robberies in some hold in the mountains of the North. I have heard that there are still forgotten treasures of old to be found in the deserted caverns of the mines of Moria, since the dwarf and goblin war."
Thorin pondered these words. "I will keep this sword in honour," he said. "May it soon cleave goblins once again!"
From "A Short Rest," The Hobbit
One such evening gathering, however, brought a new acquaintance to the Elliots’ attention. He was known to Lady Dalrymple, and had connections to the De Bourgh family, and to the Darcys of Pemberly, and happened to have come to Bath on business that week. “He is a most marvelous musician, however, “Lady Dalrymple told Miss Elliot. “Perfection at the pianoforte!"
He and Diamond were visiting, though Pippin had been disappearing every afternoon, and taking Frodo and Elanor and most other lads and lasses in the neighborhood with him—though why they couldn’t use Pippin’s own pony, Sam couldn’t imagine.
So gathered they were to Bree, what lieutenants who could be spared, from their scattered watches west and east, for their chieftain had returned from his long sojourn in lands godless and mountains strange.
Aragorn returns from the South to tells his tales. Halbarad listens.
It is well known that Psamathos does not leave his cove. He does not like to get his feet wet, and prefers to spend his days dozing under the sun.
Inside the caves, though, few Men went, and the dwarves were busy as bees. Or perhaps ants. It was remarkable to watch them transform the place into a livable city while doing nothing to diminish the natural beauty.
The Master Cooks of Wootton-Major were of course best known for their cakes, but even as an apprentice Alf had made a name for himself with bread.
Brandy Hall was a veritable warren, and there were many workshops and smithies and outbuildings attached to it. Drogo was always happy to have the potters’ workshop to himself on a quiet afternoon.
A horrid cacophony of cries erupts ahead of them, as orcs appear—up the cliff on hidden ledges, on the path, with bows and swords. And behind them rises a figure of darkness and flame. The heat rolls down the path over them, bringing the smell of burning flesh and bitter fear with it. Someone screams.